


Strange Bedfellows

by TeaAndKittens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light D/s, M/M, all porn, no plot to be had here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndKittens/pseuds/TeaAndKittens
Summary: It's no surprise to either of them that their schoolboy rivalry - the need to push and prod and always be the one to come out the winner - carries right over to the bedroom when Harry and Draco finally decide to stop avoiding the inevitable and tumble into bed together.What is surprising is just how good it is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My (exceedingly late) gift for [cintori](http://cintori.tumblr.com/) for the [Drarry Squad SS Exchange](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard). My most sincere apologies for the delay and for it not being finished. But I wanted you to have something at least. i will try my very best to get this completed before long. I'm sorry I failed so hard at this; hopefully the fic isn't a failure of such epic proportions.

_ This was the weirdest hookup Draco had ever had.  _

The thought haunted him as he walked through the door of his own bedroom so dazed it felt like he’d never been in it before.  Even if one ignored the fact that it was  _ Potter _ that currently followed him through the doorway – which was a huge fucking point to ignore – it was still rather unsettling how vastly different this experience was shaping up to be from all his previous one night stands.  Normally by this point, lust had completely overtaken Draco, driving common sense and better judgement from his brain.  There was no place for decorum or composure in the face of his need.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t similarly affected now; he couldn’t blame his  _ spectacular _ lack of rationality on his raging hormones at least not anymore.  There were no passionate embraces between them, no messy kisses, no stumbling down the hallway in an effort not to lose contact while desperately tearing off clothes with the urgency to get at skin.  Just Potter, calmly following behind him with both hands stuffed in his pockets, both of them entirely too clear-headed.

Oh, and the sense of inevitability.  There was a lot of that too.

And while it was certainly confusing, it was also perversely arousing.  Neither of them had been foolish enough to let  _ feelings  _ become involved, nor did they get caught up in frantic lust or the sway of alcohol's sweet siren song or something else fleeting and gossamer thin.  No, this was the result of a steady press of something unavoidable, inescapable – this was fate and tangled strings of destiny and too much history between them to be motivated by something as base and as simple as passion.  God, it was going to be so fucking good when they finally got to it.

It was liberating, the idea of going to bed with someone he didn’t particularly like.  Draco didn’t care if Potter owled him in the morning, didn’t care if any of this was good for Potter.  The only thing on his mind was the itch beneath his skin, the need to come his brains out, and the determination to maintain the upper hand in the school-boy rivalry they never actually outgrew.

Draco walked to the center of his room and then turned to look at Potter.  He didn't bother with any lights, the moon hung high and fat in the night sky, bathing the room in a soft glow that let them see plenty enough while adding to the surreal feeling of the moment.

Wordlessly, Potter shut the door to the bedroom, creating the illusion of intimacy where there wasn't meant to be any between them.  Or perhaps it was more about pretending that everything between them outside this room didn’t matter, not for what they were about to do.  Pulling one hand out of his pocket, he raked it through his ridiculous hair and grinned at Draco, cocky yet a touch unsure.  “So are you good to go?  Or do you need me to like... work you up again or something?”

Despite his best efforts, Draco was horrified to find himself thinking it was cute for Potter to be asking if he wanted foreplay.  Shoving that abhorrent feeling  _ deep  _ into his subconsciousness, Draco smiled a little, and flicked his wand, wordlessly retrieving a vial of lube tossing it on the bed.  “No need, Potter.  What the bloody hell do you think we've been doing all night long anyway?”   Memories of heated verbal exchanges, pushing each other into shadowed alcoves, and trading significant glances all night danced in Draco’s brain.

Looking at the lube lying on the bed, Potter grabbed the hem of his tee shirt and pulled it up over his head, ignoring the way it got stuck on his glasses, simply tugging it free carelessly.  “There’s something wrong with me for finding that sexy,” he muttered.

Following Potter's lead, Draco began toeing off his shoes, although he intended to be much more dignified than the awkward mess Potter was making of disrobing. He had a weird dissonant moment where he could sympathize with Potter’s self criticism.  “Undoubtedly.”   This was so fucking weird.  This was probably the most anticipation he’d ever felt for sex, even though he wasn’t even fully erect.  He was aching for this more than he’d blindly chased some of his orgasms when he’d been hard enough to leak and had a partner pleasuring him in some way.  Yet, they were both being absurdly casual about the whole thing by some unspoken agreement.  Draco didn’t know how to feel about that.

But he knew it was a game they both intended to win.

Draco held no illusions that Potter’s whole aim here – beyond simply achieving orgasm with another person – was to reduce him to a mindless puddle.  Potter was looking to take him apart piece by piece, make him weak with pleasure, make him ache for more, make him  _ beg _ for more.  Draco knew, because that’s what he was intending to do to Potter in return.  It was a dizzying thought that sent blood pulsing to his groin.

Potter hummed in agreement and started unbuttoning his trousers, pushing both them and his pants down his lean hips as he spoke.  “Fair enough.”  He looked up and smirked at Draco.  “I was just making sure though.  You seem to have lost a lot of your  _ eagerness _ since we left the charity auction.  You should know by now that I don’t mind winding you up.”

Ridding himself of his own shirt quickly, Draco paused to sneer over at Potter.  “Once again you overestimate your ability to impact my life.”  He let his face smooth into an overly sweet, taunting smile.  “And my  _ eagerness _ was entirely down to my surprise at discovering that you won the genetic lottery with that freakishly large prick of yours, and far less to do with any actual skill or talent on your part, so I wouldn't look so smug if I were you.”  He didn’t let himself actually look down at the cock in question; there was no way he’d be able to maintain his unaffected air if he did.

Kicking off his shoes and jeans at the same time, Potter's grin bled into something downright predatory.  “Oh really?  I guess I'll just have to prove how  _ talented  _ I can be.  Me and my freakishly large prick.”

Suppressing a shudder at the look on Potter's face, Draco undid his own trousers and pushed them off while rolling his eyes at Potter.   _ God he wanted that so bad _ ly.  Wanted Potter aggressive and controlling and demanding and competitive.  It was sure to make for a really spectacular orgasm, and he was totally not above goading him to get it.  “You can try.”

Potter let his eyes wander over Draco's completely naked body, bright green rings of iris barely visible but blazing with heat and hunger around pupils blown wide with unchecked want.  He reached down to wrap long fingers around his impressive and painfully swollen cock giving it a small squeeze.  “Oh I'll do more than try, Malfoy.”

Heat punched Draco in the gut and swept through all of his nerve endings.  It wasn’t anything new, and Potter wasn’t even the only one that called him “Malfoy” regularly, but there was something about Potter saying it here, now, when they were about to fuck that made him lose his bloody mind.  It reminded him that they were not lovers, would never be friends, they couldn’t even manage pretending to like each other long enough to get through a single fund-raiser for the ministry.  Potter wasn't going to be nice to him, or gentle.  He wouldn’t take his time with him, open Draco up nice and slow, make sure he was enjoying it; he was just looking to get laid.  That apparently worked more for Draco than anything he’d ever had before, made him feel magnanimous enough to ask, “how you want me?”

Potter's eyes flashed with barely controlled need and he let out a low noise akin to a growl.  “On your knees.”

That familiar curl of adrenaline fuelled recklessness, that thrill-seeking edge that always showed itself when Potter was near, the one that whispered  _ push, push, push til he breaks _ in a fevered litany crawled up Draco’s spine laughed, wild and gleeful.  “Oh?  Not going to put me on my back?  Treat me with a little respect?  What  _ would  _ all your fans say if they knew their savior liked to treat his lovers in such a degrading way?”

Potter merely raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t fooling anyone; his nonplussed response couldn’t hide that the spark of challenge Draco’s fed him had caught and ignited.  “I doubt they’d be too shocked by the knowledge that I treat all my lovers well.”  He stalked forward, lifted a hand to curl over Draco’s throat, grip soft and loose but heavy enough to carry the weight of a threat.  “You though.  You’re not a lover.”  He stroked a thumb up the side of Draco’s neck, a gesture that might be interpreted as sweet in any other circumstance.  “You’re just somewhere nice and uncomplicated to put my cock.”  His fingers flexed around Draco’s neck for an instant.  “But you’re ruining that somewhat with all that talking you’re doing.”

Desperate, debilitating want flared in Draco’s gut, and he only  _ just _ managed to bite off the resultant moan in time.  There was no bleeding way in hell he was showing Potter how that affected him.  Opposing instincts reared up and exerted pressure - the damnable need for validation pulling him toward his knees at Potter’s feet, the burning hunt for a victory pushing him to keep playing the game.  The drive to win would always be the strongest instinct he had, and that remained true in this moment as well.  He met Potter’s eye, steady and defiant.  “If you were looking for uncomplicated, you chose poorly.  Nothing between us is uncomplicated, Potter.”

Potter leaned forward, stopping only when his lips were close enough to Draco’s that one of them simply angling their heads would be enough to press their mouths together.  “And that’s what makes fucking you so uncomplicated.”  He huffed out a tiny laugh, breath ghosting over Draco’s skin in a mockery of a caress.  “Get on the fucking bed, Malfoy.”  The words were hard, as rigidly uncompromising as his tone of voice; there was no space to interpret them as anything other than a command he fully expected to be obeyed.  

Like sharpened claws, that voice and that order hooked Draco beneath his ribs and ripped him open.  Deliriously he thought that rather appropriate.  Potter was letting him see the power and aggression he normally kept so tightly reined in.  This was the man that had ended the second wizarding war, the man capable of defeating the dark lord, and not the bumbling idiot he showed the world.  Draco swallowed, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.  Merlin how he wanted all that power unleashed on him, wanted to know if he could weather the onslaught.  He still wanted to win more.  “I don’t take orders from you.”

Potter laughed softly, barely repressed aggression tucked away in every syllable.  “Tonight you will.”

Settling into the role Draco had defined for himself, more comfortably, he raised a haughty eyebrow.  “Oh?  What gave you that impression?”  It was easier with every passing heartbeat to ignore the way his prick kept swelling with blood, ignore the tingling heat pooling in his gut, ignore the cottony haze creeping through his brain.  All he had to do was focus on the inferno blazing in Potter’s eyes and studying his face for even the smallest of reactions and everything else faded to the background as unimportant.

 

Potter smirked.  “The fact that I’m here at all.”

 

The heat in Potter’s eyes burned through Draco all the way to his core.  “I-” his mouth moved like it wanted to form words to complete that sentence, but no sound emerged.  After several humiliating seconds, “what?” was how he finished lamely.

 

Potter smiled, baring his teeth and lifted his free hand to curl over the back of Draco’s neck and edge his fingertips into Draco’s hair.  “You knew what this was going to be the second you agreed to take me home.  I made it clear I wasn’t going to give in at all from the very beginning and yet you still agreed and here I am.  You want to give in, you want to let go, and you want it  _ with me _ ”

 

Reactionary derision carried Draco through thoughtlessly, he snorted dismissively without deliberately deciding to first.  “Don’t be an idiot, Potter.  Even if I  _ did _ want that - and that’s a concession I make only for the sake of argument - I certainly wouldn’t want it with  _ you _ .”

 

Potter rolled his eyes, not even doing Draco the courtesy of pretending to take that seriously.  “Of course you do, or I wouldn’t be here.  And i suspect you want it for many of the same reasons it has to be  _ you  _ for me.”

 

Draco could feel both his eyebrows crawling up his forehead like the surprise had them looking to escape in response to Potter’s words.  “Go on then, explain it to me, Potter.  Regale me with your superior logic.”

 

Potter shifted his weight, leaning into Draco, somehow managing to loom despite his smaller stature.  “For a start, I don’t give a toss what you think of me in the morning, and sex - good or bad - isn’t likely to change your already low opinion of me either, nor would I want it to.  I’ve got no pressure to act or perform a certain way and the reverse is true for you as well.  We can show each other things we could never show anyone we actually wanted to think well of us.”

 

Draco licked his lips.  “Perhaps.  But couldn’t we both achieve the same outcome with an entirely anonymous encounter as well?  Rather difficult for both of us to manage in the wizarding world, but I’m sure you’ve discovered, as have I, that there are a few foreign or muggle establishments that neatly solve the problem.”  Merlin’s balls.  What in the hell were they doing here?  They were both naked, Draco had already taken out the lube for Salazar’s sake.  Was standing here arguing really that much more important than shagging each other raw?  Draco studied the impertinent curl of Potter’s smirk.  Yes.  Yes it was.

 

Potter tipped his head, easily conceding the point.  “Fair enough.  But you know I’m the only one who deserves to have you that way.”

 

Anger twisted Draco’s face into a snarl.  “Bollocks,” he spit out.  “Just when I think you bloody Gryffindors can’t get any more presumptuous and entitled-”

 

Potter cut him off with an angry snarl and closed a hard fist around a handful of Draco’s hair.  He pulled hard, jerking Draco’s head back.  “Tell me Malfoy,” he growled out, voice rough and crackling with the threat of violence in every syllable.   “Give me one name, one other witch or wizard you’d honestly feel was worthy of having you their feet and I’ll let this whole thing drop.”

 

Draco looked away and pressed his lips together.  They both knew he’d never be able to utter another name.  Potter had definitely drawn first blood with that offensive.

 

The fingers of Potter’s other hand slid up to his jaw and gripped, biting into his flesh.  “It’s the same for me you know.  Anyone else would make it too easy; they’d never be a true prize.  You’re the only one who can make me feel like I’ve actually won something.”  The words were soft, and might almost be mistaken as affectionate by someone who didn’t know better; they were entirely at odds with the rough hold he maintained on Draco’s face and hair.

 

Bitter and feeling petty, Draco glared at him.  “Is that it?  We can’t stand each other and I’m a challenge you’re strong enough to handle?  Is that the summation of your wisdom?”

 

Potter’s gaze dipped down to Draco’s lips, trailed over his throat.  The fingers on Draco’s jaw gentled.  “No.  There’s one more reason, and it’s probably the most important.”  He stroked light, almost absent fingertips over Draco’s cheek in random designs.

 

Draco huffed.  “Well, don’t get shy on me now, Potter.”

 

Potter’s attention snapped back up, reestablishing eye contact.  “There’s some measure of trust between us, after all our messy history.  Just because it didn’t come from any mutual respect or fondness for each other doesn’t mean it can be ignored.”  He walked his fingertips back down Draco’s neck to settle comfortably once more in a loose grip around Draco’s throat.  “We don’t like each other, no, so you can’t expect me to treat you delicately - but you can trust me not to really hurt you.  And you’ll be trying to get to me just as much as I’m trying to get to you, so I know you’ll let me go farther than someone else would - but i can trust you not to let me go too far.”

 

“Potter, you-”

 

Not letting Draco finish, Potter used his hold on Draco’s hair to jerk hard just once, demanding both silence and attention.  When Draco quieted, he angled his head to whisper directly into Draco’s ear.  “You know what you want, what you’re afraid to admit to yourself, what you’re afraid to ask for.  Let me give it to you.  Let me take care of you, just for tonight.”

 

Draco’s hands, which had been hanging useless by his sides this entire time, shot up and he curled them over Potter’s shoulders, clinging.  He could feel himself cracking, resolve crumbling, and he needed a solid hold.  “And that means following orders?”

 

Potter hummed.  “Yes.  Get on the bed, Malfoy.”  He scraped his teeth down the line of Draco’s jaw.  “I won’t tell you again.  If you refuse, then this isn’t for me anymore.  I leave.”  He released his hold on Draco and took a step back.

 

To his utter shame, Draco stumbled a bit when Potter let him go.  He’d like to pretend there was more fight in him, but they both knew exactly how this was going to end anyway.  He couldn’t let Potter leave; he’d do whatever it took to keep him here.  He crawled up onto his mattress and settled on his hands and knees, arse up in the air in a lewd display.  All at Potter’s request.

Potter hummed again, the sound one of satisfaction and arousal, and somehow vaguely predatory.  He moved forward on light feet until he was standing next to the bed.  The fingertips on one of his hands ran over the back of Draco's thigh and followed the curve of it up over the swell of Draco's bum. 

Breathing was difficult for Draco all of a sudden, becoming labored and panting, stuttering hot and moist out of his parted lips.  He shifted and spread his knees a little wider, encouraging Potter to move things along.   “Do you intend to just look at it all night, or is there some plan to actually fuck me?”  He wanted to look over his shoulder, glare at Potter to emphasize his words, but he couldn’t.  He was too afraid of what he might see on Potter’s face.

 

With no warning at all, Potter lifted his hand from Draco’s skin and swung it back down in a firm slap to the fleshiest part of his arse.  The strike echoed through the room in a resounding  _ smack _ .

 

The noise of it registered first, Draco stiffening in response, but it was already too late.  Fire licked up his nerve endings and set his brain alight.  He cried out at the confusing jumble of sensations and emotions tangled in his mind.

 

Potter chuckled.  “I knew it would be a waste of breath to tell you to be good for me - and honestly I’m not sure I want you entirely obedient.  I had planned to simply threaten you with more of that for any misbehavior or more of that cheeky mouth of yours, but judging by your reaction, I can’t tell if it would be a reward or a punishment.”

 

Draco clenched his teeth.  “Sod off, Potter.”

 

It was more than one this time.  Three licks laid down in exactly the same spot as the first.

 

Draco howled in response, pain and need a violently raging storm that consumed him whole.

 

Potter put his palm over Draco’s stinging flesh and squeezed ever so slightly.  “Now then, to your original question; of course I plan to fuck you, but you knew that already.  In fact, you and I both know that neither of us is leaving this room until you’ve been  _ thoroughly  _ fucked.”  He squeezed Draco’s arse again, pulling his cheeks apart slightly.  “But I do plan to look my fill first.  Clearly you don’t realize just how lovely your arse really is or you wouldn’t dream of interrupting a man before he’d had a chance to fully appreciate it.”  He darted forward and bit Draco’s thigh right where it met his bum sharply.  “Not even you would be that cruel.”

 

A shiver rolled down Draco’s spine.  “You, on the other hand, seem to have no problem with it.”

 

Potter laughed.  “No, not at all.”  He rubbed both hands down the backs of Draco’s thighs.  “It really is unfair just how beautiful you are; you can’t blame a bloke for being a little cross over it.”

 

Draco sucked in a shuddering breath.  “Potter,” he whispered.  He had no idea how he’d planned to finish that thought, so he simply let it die.

 

Potter’s hand left Draco’s body entirely.  “So terribly beautiful, what a pretty picture you make.”  He  _ tsked _ and there was the faint whisper of movement, then one of his hands found the back of Draco’s neck.  “But this isn’t quite how I want you.”  The hand started applying steady pressure to the back of Draco’s neck urging his head and torso down.

 

Instinct had Draco locking his elbows before he’d even made a conscious decision about whether he intended to follow Potter’s direction or not.

 

Potter squeezed his fingers tighter around the back of Draco’s neck.  “C’mon pretty boy, give me what I came here for.  Let go for me, just a little bit,” he urged gently.

 

Something fractured and broke in Draco’s brain, and almost without his permission, his limbs liquefied and he allowed Potter to press him down to the mattress, only remembering to turn his face to the side at the last instant so he could breathe unhampered.

 

Potter made a low noise of satisfaction.  “Yes, that’s much better.”  He stroked his hand down from Draco’s nape along his spine and then back up.  “Now your hands are free.”

 

Draco made a noise, unable to form words, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was meant to convey confusion or protest or capitulation or something else he couldn’t even name.  Thinking was too difficult at the present moment so he just -  _ didn’t. _

 

Potter moved again, around the bed so that he was standing behind Draco now.  “You asked earlier about my plans.  Currently, every single one of them involves opening you up for my cock with first my tongue and then my fingers.”

 

Draco couldn’t hold back the needy moan that thought provoked.

 

“You want it?”  Potter reached out and teased his fingers along the crack of Draco’s arse fleetingly before retreating.  “Well?”

 

Draco let out a noise of impatient frustration.  It allowed him to recover enough of his wits to pick up his opposition to blindly submitting to Potter’s whims.  “Merlin, Potter, what the bloody hell do you think I’m bent over for?”  He tensed in anticipation of another spanking for his sass.

 

Potter only laughed and tapped lightly on the spot that was still stinging, the one that was sure to bear a red mark in the shape of his hand.  “Reach back and spread yourself open for me.”

 

Draco just about choked on his own tongue in his haste to refuse that order.  Like hell would he humiliate himself to that degree.  “I’m not going to-”

 

Potter dug his fingers into the muscle of Draco’s arse, gripped tight enough to bruise, pressed fingernails into already sore skin.  “Yes, you will.  Do you know why?”  He squeezed with increased force, vicious and unyielding.

 

Draco whimpered.  “Why?” he stuttered out.

 

Potter let his handful of flesh go, smoothed over it with a broad palm as if to make up for the rough treatment.  “Because if you don’t, I won’t lick you open, and that was the only preparation you were going to get.  If I skip that, you’ll have to take my cock with nothing more than a little oil to ease the way.”

 

Draco thought about it, he really did.  He thought about letting Potter hold him down, take what he wanted, unconcerned with Draco’s pain or pleasure.  There would be plenty of both, to be sure, although likely more pain than pleasure.  But he could walk away with the knowledge that though he didn’t fight it, he hadn’t  _ given anything  _ to Potter either - only let him take - and he hadn’t enjoyed it  _ too _ much either.

  
But he was honest enough to admit that wasn’t what he really wanted.  He wanted to know what heights they could reach when both of them were willing to put in the work to make the climb.  Limbs shaking, Draco reached back and put a hand on each arsecheek.  He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath then pulled them apart slightly, baring himself to Potter’s gaze.


End file.
